


Rubies and Rust

by Eratoschild



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blade kink, Bladeplay, Chill XV, Consensual Kink, Cutting, Dagger Kink, Daggers, Established Relationship, I think it's about as sweet and fluffy as knife play gets, Knife Kink, Knifeplay, M/M, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Snark, Trust, Trust Kink, consent is casual, very light blood play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 17:38:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14061999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eratoschild/pseuds/Eratoschild
Summary: “I was thinking me, you, a date with those daggers of yours...”





	Rubies and Rust

**Author's Note:**

> Gladnis, snark and knife kink. Three great tastes that taste great together.

“Hey babe,” Gladio pressed himself full-length against his boyfriend, who was busy chopping vegetables on the island in the middle of his kitchen, “wanna get dangerous tonight?” He punctuated the suggestion by grazing his teeth along the back of Iggy’s neck.

“How so? Be a bit more specific?”

“I was thinking me, you, a date with those daggers of yours...”

“Oh, that sort of dangerous. Hmm. Do I?” he craned his neck just enough that Gladio caught a quick flash of wicked smirk. “And do I get to tie you up?”

“As much as I love it when you do that, I thought maybe we could take another crack at seeing how I do unassisted.”

“Ahhhhh so you want me to slice you and dice you and serve you up rare?”

“If you're saying you're going to eat me, I'm more than happy to skip dinner. But if you keep talking like that I'll be in danger of turning out well done.”

“We will not be skipping dinner. I, for one, will not go near you with lethal implements if I'm shaking from low blood sugar.”

“You know I love you, Ignis “Safety Lecture” Scientia but you need to learn to take a risk once in a while.

Ignis turned around, chef’s knife in hand (and looking only a fraction less threatening than his daggers) with one eyebrow raised and gave Gladio a long, hard look over his glasses. “You know, Gladiolus, most other people in their full faculties would consider playing with daggers such as we are discussing to be quite the considerable risk. Especially when it involves you.”

“Well what can I say, I'm a dangerous guy.”

“A danger to yourself you mean.”

“Lucky I have you to keep me safe!”

“You are pushing your luck tonight.”

"Babe, you know how I like it when you threaten me,” Gladio said with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Here is a threat that I will be certain to make good on: let me finish this lest I should do something that I will enjoy thoroughly but I promise you will not.”

“Ooh, like tie me down and go have some Ebony while you get ahead on reading your reports for tomorrow's meetings?”

“Oh I'm already done with those. I need to reorganize my books though. I was thinking I might tie you down and start working on that. I can't decide between organizing them by height or by the predominant color of the cover.”

“The fact that you would even think to joke about taking them out of their precious Library of Eos Filing System Order to torture me is mildly terrifying.”

Iggy's eyes lit up. “Color it is. That means analyzing for predominant color _and_ by hexadecimal shade. Pardon me love, I believe there’s an app for that which I should be downloading.”

Gladio could feel himself pale. His mouth snapped closed. He saluted, then grabbed a book and sat on the sofa without another word. He was joking, Gladio was sure. He had to be, but better safe than sorry.

* * *

 

There were hands on his shoulders, sliding down his chest. Iggy leaned down and spoke against his neck in a sultry voice. “Well darling, we made it through dinner without me having to slice you up. Shall we try your luck in the other room?”

He didn't have to be asked twice. Casting his book aside and practically vaulted over the sofa. He followed Iggy to his room, shedding clothing along the way, naked by the time he stepped through the door. 

“Well, aren't you enthusiastic?”

“Always. You want me standing, laying?”

“I’ll have you all ways eventually. You know better than to ask that.”

“Fuck Iggy, just tell me what to do right now.”

“Fine.” He thought for a moment and then pointed to the bed. “On your back, Gladiolus.”

If he wasn’t already hard, that would have done it. That voice. That accent. Those words. And his full name on top of it all, Shiva’s icy tits. He threw the pillows to the floor on the other side of the bed and sank back on the mattress, his arms out to either side of him, making sure he was centered. Once they got started he would need to be able to grip the edges. Iggy knew how to make him twitch, and unnecessary movement was the last thing he needed here. The first couple of times they had done this, he’d allowed himself to be restrained but once he got used to it, found that he preferred to use his own physical discipline. All the training he’d devoted his life to, why not take advantage of it from time to time?  
  
Iggy was unbuttoning and rolling up his sleeves. There was something about the fact that he kept his clothing on when he did this that made it all so much hotter, heightened the air of control.

 

A moment later, he was on the bed with Gladio, straddling his hips, one of his daggers cradled in his gloved hands. “All the usual, Darling?” 

“Yeah.”

“Very well.” He put the dagger to the side for a moment, leaned down and captured Gladio’s lips in a short kiss, no less sensual for its brevity. He was careful not to press himself into the erection trapped between them any more than he could help. As marvelously torturous as it felt, the time for that was later.   
  
He sat back up, gathering his dagger and took the tip to Gladio’s skin, barely touching, tracing invisible patterns over one pectoral, enjoying the visible tensing of muscle against what would right now be a faint tickle. Gladio had a high tolerance for pain, it was the lighter touches that drove him mad.

Ignis did enjoy the steering.

 

To his credit, Gladio was exceptionally disciplined. He had to be, given his position and function. He put it to full use here outside of official capacity as well. He had to. Iggy was entirely too skilled at reducing him to a mess. Right now, sitting astride him, he teased that blade all over his chest before narrowing it down to a more concentrated area. _Oh, he’s doing that, is he?_ Recognizing from feel that the blade was tracing and ghosting its way across the lines of a single feather. Gladio pulled in a long, steady breath and made a concerted effort to ignore- for the moment at least- the light but fluctuating pressure and movement against his dick, inadvertent movements as Iggy worked the tip of his dagger around the chosen part of the design “Hey now, mind the ink,” he chided on the exhale.

 

“Nonsense. I haven’t broken skin. And you and I both know that you’ve already got an appointment with your artist for repair work next week.”

“Peeked at my schedule again, did you?”

“Always.”

He sucked in air as a feather-light draw of the blade brushed across one nipple, gloved fingers on the other. “Babe…,” he moaned breathily, his fingers clawing at the edge of the mattress.

“Darling?” Iggy quipped in response, smirking down at him as he brought the blade up to caress his cheek with the blunt edge. Ifrit’s sweet ass, he would happily carry the memory of that sight into the mouth of hell.

He took one hand from the mattress and brought it to the blade, pressed it tenderly, the cool metal quickly warming between his palm and cheek. He ran his thumb along the cutting edge, just enough to feel it slice, a faint sting, not enough to bleed. He let go of the blade, offered up the scored digit. Iggy took his wrist in his free hand, pressed the cut to his lips, opened his mouth and pushed his tongue rhythmically against the point he'd just kissed. He never broke eye contact.

“Babe,” Gladio echoed, an exhaled whisper, eyes falling closed.

It truly was the lighter touches that drove him mad. 

His wrist released, he gripped the mattress edge again. 

 

Ignis gazed down at the face below him and moved the dagger back to the feather he’d been tracing earlier. He kept the point hovering above Gladio’s flesh while he spoke. “Love, you are going to drive me to distraction. I suppose I don't mind so much but this was your suggestion. Do let me know if you’ve changed your mind though, we can always pause and pick this part up another time.”

This time, Gladio took hold of Iggy’s wrist, guided the tip so that it was just touching him and put enough pressure on it so that he felt a single prick of pain, and possibly just enough to piece the very surface of the skin. He left it there, thumb caressing Iggy’s, smiling up into those brilliant green eyes. “No,” he said, voice husky, “Don’t stop now.”

“Very well then, but do let go.”

 

He did, and a few seconds later, he was rewarded with a sensation much like that of the skin slicing on the pad of his thumb, but with a greater intensity. 

 

Ignis took his time, eye roving over Gladio’s arms as they flexed and tensed against his grip. Once Gladio had sunk the tip of the blade into his own skin, he was finished teasing. Still not aiming for pain that wasn’t strictly incidental, he took to the lines the feather he’d been tracing earlier. This time, he did break skin. He took time and care to carve most carefully along it’s fine lines, which gained adornment: tiny liquid beads like strung rubies in the dim light, as the blade moved, tracing the outside edge of the feather and then flicking here and there over one choice line or another. There was a transient loveliness to it, tiny dark jewels set into beautifully bronzed flesh and then melding into each other in shimmering rivulets.

In seconds, the slow seeping of blood fused into a semi-solid outline of the feather, shimmering ruby dried to solid rust, beautiful in its own right. He traced another feather, painstakingly, the blade pushing a fraction deeper this time, Gladio’s chest rose and fell against the metal, precise as surgery, deliberately steady and controlled. His arms strained as he pulled against the mattress edges, biceps faintly tremulous. Second feather completed, the blood seeped out, a bit more freely for the deeper cutting. No beading, the lines solidified instantly.

 

Gladio gazed up through his eyelashes at Iggy working above him, his face a mix of concentration, lust and just a bit of arrogance. As he watched, his want to abandon his hold on the mattress edge, to give up the effort of keeping so absolutely still, to get his hands on that perfect body, grew to be too much competition for his want of the magic that was working across his flesh in the form of pain and scratches and soft fingers, and further down in the form of minute, inadvertent movements- Iggy would do everything he could to maintain his concentration but some things simply could not be helped when one sits astride one’s lover and leans forward at just the right angle. 

Iggy never looked up, eyes only for the spot of Gladio's skin currently parting under his blade. For an irrational second, Gladio wished he could be reduced to that current feather holding hisattention, the exact point where the tip of the blade sank. He held fast to the edges, studyingIggy’s face intently until he pulled the weapon back, until he dared interrupt.

“Hey Iggy?”

“Yes Gladio?” Ignis replied softly, eyes fully meeting Gladio’s.

“Forget that. I want you.” Simple statement.

 

Ignis nodded and cast the blade aside to lean down. Gladio dropped his hold on the bed’s edge to unbutton his shirt fully and push it from his shoulders before circling his arms inside the garment and tightening his embrace. Their torsos pressed flush with each other. Lips met and for several long moments, they did little more than allow their mouths to meld, slowly with a building heat. When they finally broke, Ignis pulled back, a slight tugging sensation at his chest. He looked down to find rusty colored flakes stuck to his skin, evidence of the last cut feather drying between them. He sat up, allowing his shirt to fall, fully freeing his arms and prepared to move on with their evening.


End file.
